


I Didn't Choose the Theater Life

by Ardatli



Series: There's No People Like Show People [1]
Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Theater, Gen, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:19:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli/pseuds/Ardatli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door slammed open and Eli stormed in, flinging his clipboard down onto the table with dramatic frustration. Teddy shifted his coke can over about three inches to make space, but Eli just flopped into an empty chair in the boardroom and stole half of Billy’s sandwich out of the cellowrap.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“Thank you,” Eli mumbled around a mouthful of turkey. “Also, I quit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn't Choose the Theater Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly bit of fluff that came out of a discussion on Tumblr. [This post sums it up, really. ](http://ardatli.tumblr.com/post/68916338961/theatre-au)
> 
> Unbetaed, and I may come back to this in either snippits or more at length sometime in the future. 
> 
>  [Hang out with me on tumblr.](http://ardatli.tumblr.com)

“And he’s standing there with little Remy just _hanging_ there, flapping in the breeze- I swear to god, after fifteen years in the business you’d think he’d remember to wear underwear to a fitting.” Kate carefully ran her spoon around the rim of her yoghurt, the remnants of the rest of her lunch – dinner – whatever – scattered on the folding table in front of her. The theater was small enough that the boardroom doubled as a break room, half-finished props hanging along the walls waiting for paint and glue and god knew what else to dry.

Billy sprawled back in his chair, his dress shirt and the glasses perched on the top of his head the only things distinguishing him from the others. ‘Office drone chic,’ as Tommy called it. Tommy could afford to make fun. Crew didn’t have to deal with sponsors and press  - they tended to vanish en masse whenever the suits invaded – so they could get away with the kind of snug band t-shirts, leather cuffs and threadbare cargos that were currently thoroughly distracting Billy from his food.

 _I will not perve on the Technical Director._ No matter how good Ted Atman looked in his work clothes. Teddy was a creative genius, able to take Kate’s sketches and maquettes and turn them into full-scale functional works of art, and Billy was just an office drone who happened to be related to the lighting director of one of New York’s hundred off-off-off-off-Broadway theaters. Hitting on the gorgeous blond TD with forearms that he was desperate to bite would only end in tears.

Teddy, apparently totally oblivious to the way his stupid broad shoulders wanted to burst out of his grey-faded AC/DC tour shirt, cursed softly as his taco shell shattered. Sauce ran down the inside of his wrist and he licked it off. Billy’s pulse jumped about double-time at the sight of the tip of Teddy’s tongue, and the wet shine it left on his skin.

_Fuck._

Right. Conversation. Distractions were good. He shook his head at Kate. “ _Little_ Remy?” He didn’t spend a whole lot of time – read, almost none – in rehearsals, but even he’d heard the rumors.

“Fine,” Kate waved it off with a laugh. David snickered from the floor in the corner, where he was surrounded by piles of paperwork in rapidly expanding concentric circles. “Nicely sized and uncut Remy. He’s a shower, not a grower. The point being he should have at least bought me dinner first.”

The door slammed open and Eli stormed in, flinging his clipboard down onto the table with dramatic frustration. Teddy shifted his coke can over about three inches to make space, but Eli just flopped into an empty chair in the boardroom and stole half of Billy’s sandwich out of the cellowrap.

“Hey!”

“Thank you,” Eli mumbled around a mouthful of turkey. “Also, I quit.”

“You can’t quit,” that from David, a phone book’s worth of paper spread out in front of him now, cast lists neatly stacked beside contact forms and blocking notes. He barely looked up.  

Eli scowled darkly at his ASM. “Why the hell not?”

That did prompt David to look up, blinking serenely at Eli from behind the tinted glasses that were his trademark. “Because then I’d have to do your job, and no-one wants that.”

Teddy abandoned his taco, setting it back into the takeout container and grabbing for a wetwipe instead. Fine white scars marked a couple of his strong, thick fingers, probably from tool accidents at some point in his career. He dragged the damp wipe slowly over his skin, cleaning the sauce off his hands. Billy forced his eyes away, a lump settling in his throat. “What happened this time?”

That got them a long, low groan of pain. Eli sank down in his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This asshole is reblocking everything. We just spent two hours redoing the second scene – for the _third_ time – and no-one knows what’s going on anymore. I had to scrap fourteen pages because none of it applied. When does America get back?”

Kate pulled her spoon out of her mouth with a satisfying pop. “Really?” She arched a black eyebrow in Eli’s direction, and he flushed across the top of his cheekbones. “I thought you threatened never to work with her again, and you were _glad_ she had an overlapping contract?”

Eli took a large bite of sandwich and mumbled around it. “... I may have been hasty.”

He could bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snickering, but what was the point of that? Kate caught Billy’s eye, laughter dancing in her expression. “Last I remember,” David said, leaning back against the wall and propping his arm across his knee. “She was a ‘megalomanic dictator with delusions of Broadway.’”

“It’s still true. But at least she’s a megalomaniac that I’m used to.”

“Aw. I’m touched.” The voice from the doorway made them all jump – well, all except David, who was watching the entrance by the time Billy managed to turn and take it in. America slouched against the doorframe, arms folded in front of her, her hair tied back and a bag slung over her shoulder.

Kate waved cheerfully, kicking out the chair across from Billy in invitation. “Thank god you’re back. Eli’s been pining.”

Eli scowled at all of them. “Hardly.”

America passed him on the way to her chair and knuckled his shaved head in what could almost pass for an affectionate rub, if it wasn’t for the impenetrable look on her face and the way Eli swatted at her in response.

“How’d it go?” Teddy asked once she’d joined them. She pulled a container of something spicy and vaguely unidentifiable out of her bag before answering with a shrug.

“Fine.”

Billy laughed while Eli sulked in his seat. “That’s all we’re going to get?”

Not that she ever said much; even in production meetings she tended to make short and strongly-felt pronouncements that brought everything to a halt. Her solid assurance was backed up by experience, hallelujah, otherwise she would have been one hell of a problem immovable object against Eli’s irresistible force. Director versus stage manager never ended well. “Yes,” she said simply. “What did I miss?”

“A few things,” Teddy filled her in, taking another stab at eating his taco without getting crap everywhere. Someone with that kind of mouth eating with his fingers had to be illegal in at least one county, didn’t it? “Noh had his monthly meltdown about the ‘stone age’ sound system, the new lighting board blew the breakers twice-“

“Working on it,” Eli groused. He cast a longing look in the direction of Kate’s coffee and she pushed it closer to his hand.

“-And two of the cast can’t make the cue-to-cue," David cut in. "They have tickets to a football game.”

Teddy frowned at David. “It’s not just _a_ football game; it’s Jets versus Dolphins! They’ve got a good excuse.”

“Not you too,” David sighed.

“No!” Teddy shook his head, a look of regret crossing his face. “I’ll be here.”

“But that’s only because he’s got the radio piped through his headset so he can keep track of the game,” Kate pointed out with a wide grin.

“Ah,” America said, probably amused.

Teddy scowled at Kate, and even the way his eyebrows drew together just made his face transform from ‘cute’ into a cross between ‘impressive’ and ‘I’ll fuck you until you limp.’ That last one might have been wishful thinking on Billy's part. “Traitor.”

A familiar head topped with a shock of bleached-white hair poked around the door to the boardroom, followed rapidly by the rest of Tommy. Billy lifted a hand to acknowledge his twin brother, his mouth full. Tommy just nodded at him, his attention elsewhere entirely. “Chavez! Good to have you back. Maybe we’ll actually get somewhere now. Tedders-“ he switched targets mid-stream of thought. Teddy looked up, seemingly nonplussed by the nickname. “You done? The stage is clear and we need to run those cables. I want to be out of here before 9 tonight.”

Kate snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“Hot date?” Billy sniped, more because it was expected, and because the last time any of them had been out of the studio or office at a non-insane hour was ... what? Three weeks ago? Not that he had anywhere better to be. Which was worse: that he didn’t, or that Tommy did?

Tommy clapped him solidly on the shoulder, and Billy rocked forward with the force of the blow. “At least one of us has a chance of getting some this century,” Tommy replied, and Billy could have cheerfully killed him right about then, even with witnesses. “Ted, ol’ buddy; stop making eyes at my baby brother and get a move on.”

He couldn’t help it, his eyes snapped straight to Teddy, who -  for some reason, because he was usually so blasé about Tommy’s teasing – had turned red.

There was no way that it could be what Billy wished it were, because Teddy was so far out of Billy’s league that it was ridiculous, with his constant volunteering with Cassie and the kids’ programs, to his incredible eye for color and form, to the way his toolbelt hung low around his hips when he was up working on the set. Teddy just balled up the trash from his lunch and tossed it into the garbage can. It hit dead center, naturally, which was one more reason to ~~love~~ hate him.

 “Coming,” Teddy said, his voice weirdly tight. He stood and seemed to shake something off, because his next reply was directed at Kate, as casual and easy as if he’d never been uncomfortable. He didn’t look Billy or Tommy in the eye. “The streetlamp’s going downstage left, right?”

Kate nodded. “Right.”

Teddy cocked an eyebrow, and then he did glance at Billy, a little hopeful grin touching the corners of his mouth. “Downstage right?” he asked, all innocence.

“No, left,” Billy jumped in, as Kate opened her mouth.

Teddy nodded solemnly, but his eyes were shining now. “That’s what I said. Downstage left.”

“Right!” Billy replied.

“No, left,” Teddy put on a frown at him.

“Who’s left?”

“The lamp-post.”

“Only the lamp-post is left?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

"What happened to the rest of the set?"

 “Third base!” David said, and any tension left in the room was gone just like that.  Teddy’s smile at Billy was a radiant thing that sent warmth coiling through Billy’s gut in an altogether Bad Idea kind of way, and then he followed Tommy out of the room. Kate was looking at Billy knowingly when he turned back to the table, but packed up the remnants of her lunch without calling him on it. There was a reason he liked her best.

“I’m out,” Kate announced, tucking her things into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder at she stood. “I have fittings this afternoon. Send me Scott and Jean?” she asked Eli, and he sighed. “A bunch of new stuff came in for them.”

“Jean quit. Last week,” Eli said, in a voice thick with envy and longing.

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. “She’ll come back. She always does.”

Eli opened his mouth, then shrugged and closed it again. “I’ll get you Scott. We’re on break for another forty-five.”

America looked at the clock hanging precariously on the wall next to the back half of a papier-mâché cow, and her nose wrinkled before her stoic mask dropped down over her features again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she proclaimed, leaving her bag slung over the back of her chair and her noodles half-eaten on the table. “Gonna go punch Laufeysson and get my show back.”

The door swung closed behind Eli, Kate and America a minute later, leaving Billy with the last of his lunch, and David with a run’s worth of organization in the corner across the room. The shouting started downstairs a minute later, and a slow smile spread across Billy’s face. This may not have been the career he was expecting to have, with all the late nights, terrible pay, and stroking sponsor egos in order to get enough money and publicity to just barely keep their heads above water...

A crash sounded downstairs, and David closed his eyes for a few seconds, looking for all the world like he was counting to ten.

Kate had been right, though, when Tommy had first brought him around to interview for the PR job. Theater was an adventure like nothing else it in the world. If only Teddy Altman would look at him twice... then, life would be just about perfect. 


End file.
